


There's a Nice Man Who Works Out at My Gym!

by scullyseviltwin



Category: Crazy Ex-Girlfriend (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-18
Updated: 2016-02-18
Packaged: 2018-05-21 12:04:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,662
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6050989
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scullyseviltwin/pseuds/scullyseviltwin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Josh finds himself showing a gym-regular how to properly use the bench press.</p>
            </blockquote>





	There's a Nice Man Who Works Out at My Gym!

**Author's Note:**

> My gratitude to [Allison](http://www.stars-inthe-sky.tumblr.com/), [stitchy](http://www.stitchyblogs.tumblr.com) and [Amber](http://www.iloveyouandilikeyou.tumblr.com) for their help on this. ...yes I needed three people to look at this. Yes, it's only 2k.

“Three more reps, come on! Y, you can do it!” Josh stands with his fingers just under the barbell, . “You got it, you got it,” he says and feelings a familiar rush of pride as the elderly gentleman brings the bar back and rests it in the grooves of the stand. “You got it, you got it.”

“Great job, John,” Josh adds,says as the man cracks his back and sits up; with a pat on the back, he hands John a towel. “You killed that! We’re doneThat’s all for today, but next week we’re going to up the reps—. We’ll keep the weights the same, but we’ll up the reps. H, how does that sound?”

John wipes a hand over his face and smiles, “If you think I can handle it.”

“Oh yeah, sure man, definitely. You’re unstoppable! And you know I’ve got your back.”

John stands and drapes his towel around the back of his neck, his orthopedic sneakers squeaking against the mats. “All right then, sounds like a plan. As ever, see you next week?”

Josh reaches out a hand and John does the same and they make a loud clapping noise as their hands come together and they shake. Josh watches his client plod off towards the locker room, and he finds himself grinning. Not just at how far he’s brought John over the past few weeks, but how much John has begun to believe in himself. It’s one thing to help someone tone their body, it’s another entirely to get someone to believe in their own self-worth. 

God, he _loves_ days like this.

Josh enjoys being a trainer, enjoys watching people transform, enjoys _helping_ them transform. It feels good to know that he’s helping people better themselves. With a happy sigh, he retreats to the juice bar and grabs a Mean Green smoothie, sucking down a few gulps eagerly before he turns, resting his elbows on the counter and glancing out at the open-plan gym floor.

It’s only four o’clock on a Friday, so the gym isn’t packed yet. In two hours the post-work crowd will rush in, elbow one another for a coveted spot on one of the ellipticals. He won’t hang around for that; he works mostly during the morning and afternoon, his clientele generally older people trying to keep in shape, and people who are trying to get back into the swing of things after injuries.

These are the people that he really enjoys working with; not that there’s anything wrong with the younger crowd. But truth be told, the younger crowd doesn’t generally need his help. And he’s not sure how much he could assist them anyway. They always think they know better than him, the younger ones. The bros that assure him that they know how to deadlift and then throw out their back. The ladies who claim that paying one-hundred and twenty dollars a month on a gym membership to _only_ use the treadmill, is a good investment.

But he doesn’t begrudge them their lifestyles; he just doesn’t like working with them. It’s a bit frustrating, actually, because those people constantly are trying to book him as a trainer. He’s got a certificate in physical therapy (back when he thought he might be a physical therapy aid) and a certificate in personal training. Add to that his teaching certification in yoga (which had been a lot more fun than he’d expected it to be), and he’s the sort of trainer that people _want_. 

Thing is, he’s very selective about his clientele.

Josh pulls up his calendar, looks at his clients who are scheduled to come in tomorrow morning, and does a mental rundown of that he’s going to have them do. Gladys needs strength training in her back, and Mariana is trying to get back into marathons since she had knee surgery; it’s going to be a long day. He spends a minute debating whether he should try and squeeze in another workout before he heads out to meet Greg and decides against it, content to sip his drink.

He watches the few people who are in the gym at the moment: the two young mothers who had begun coming in solidarity and to lose their last few baby pounds, the ever-present obsessed lifters who are actually pretty nice guys, the kids on a break from their college classes, and the middle-aged man who sticks to his circuit training like a pro. 

Josh’s gaze settles on him, and he feels an instant sort of camaraderie with the guy. He’s always alone; sometimes Josh sees him chatting with people at the juice bar, but he doesn’t seem to use the gym as a hangout like other people do. He’s here to _work_ , and Josh really respects that. He appreciates that the man holds his own, even under the unjust scrutiny of some of the younger and more fit and, well, _conventionally attractive_ gym-goers. 

He knows how hard it is to stick to a routine, to show your face every day at a place like this, a place where people are more often than not judging you. With a frown, Josh recalls his own childhood, how children had made fun of him for his weight and how that shaped him. How now, as an adult, he’d never judge someone based on their appearance, _especially_ not someone who’s working to better himself.

Josh watches as the man runs a microfiber towel over his brow and then steps up onto one of the many identical treadmills and begins a light jog. He smashes buttons as the television above the machine flickers until he settles on a channel. 

CNN, nice.

Josh observes the man’s form, thinks about how if he opened up his stride a bit more he wouldn’t be putting so much pressure on his knees. He doesn’t mention it—can’t, really. It’s terrible to talk to someone when they’re on a treadmill, and, anyway, Josh isn’t training him. He’s just…watching.

Oh. He’s watching someone. That’s probably not…the greatest.

So he finishes up his smoothie and hits the showers; he has to meet Greg in an hour, anyway.

\---

The weekend goes by quickly; Josh runs a 10K on Saturday and then meets up for lunch with one of the guys he’s been chatting with from Tinder. There’s nothing there, really, but they talk for awhile over quinoa bowls and it’s fine. 

Just fine.

He just likes to _date_ , likes to keep up with it. He remembers how hard it was to get back into dating after his girlfriend in high school broke up with him, and he doesn’t really want to go through that again.

So he just dates, randomly. He goes out with a woman that evening for a drink but finds that, even though they both happen to be rewatching _Frasier_ at the same time, they don’t really have anything else in common. Sunday, he and the guys play a couple of hours of tag football and then go back to his place to watch the Chargers game. It’s pretty low-key, and they leave early enough for him to get a solid eight hours of sleep.

So he’s excited to be back at work on Monday. Being at the gym at five o’clock in the morning energizes him. The only other people who show up that early are the supremely dedicated...and Katie, a homeless woman whom Josh allows to sneak in to grab a shower, some clean towels, and a smoothie. It’s his favorite time of day, really, when everything’s quiet, save for the clank and clatter of a few machines whirring away.

There’s no one working the smoothie bar, so Josh whips one up for himself, adds too much bee pollen (he _loves_ bee pollen), and begins setting out the training schedules for the day. He’s halfway through figuring out what he can do with Dave, since Dave has one arm in a sling, when he catches someone enter the gym out of the corner of his eye.

It’s the same man from the week before, the one who always keeps to himself. 

Surreptitiously, with his head bent over his legal pad, Josh watches the man disappear back into the locker room; he’s almost curious enough to follow, but he withstands that instinct and waits. 

The man returns, sans duffel, and moves over to the weight benches. To Josh, who has seen every type of person come through the gym, he looks a little lost. Josh doesn’t want to embarrass him, or pressure him into using the equipment if he’s just checking it out, so he waits. The man circles the bench, ducks down to look at the sets of weights, and then stands back up.

Josh takes that as his cue.

“Hey, man,” he says with a wave, from a distance; he doesn’t want to put any pressure on. 

“Oh, hey, hi,” the man returns. “I was just, you know, taking a gander at the, uh, the bench press here.”

“You…need a spotter?” Josh asks, feeling him out.

“I’ve actually never used a bench press. Done a bench press?” The man ponders his usage of the words and Josh laughs. “Done a bench press,” the man decides with a smile.

“Oh, yeah, a lot of people haven’t, I can show you? If you want?” 

The man takes a step back and looks almost shocked, and Josh worries that he’s overstepped. But the man begins nodding eagerly, a smile sliding onto his face. It’s nice; he has a nice face. “That’d, yeah, that’d be great.”

Josh smiles and takes a seat on the bench. “Right, so the important thing is to find out your proper hand placement on the bar, that’s why we don’t put any weight on yet.” Josh gestures to the empty ends of the bar. “Then, you lie back, make sure that the bench is right under the center of your back, and have your spotter watch for where your hands are when you unrack it.”

Josh lies back, motions with open palms where he places his hands and presses up, then brings the bar down against his chest. “This is good spacing for me, see? I have shorter arms than you, though, so,” he laughs, pushes the bar up and sets it back in the grooves. “As the spotter, you would generally have your hands underneath the bar as well, in case I needed help lifting it back into place.”

The man scratches at the back of his head. “Where do my hands go?”

“So you’d put them in the middle of the bar, that’s where the most stability is, one overhand and one underhand, like this.” Josh stands up, shows him. “So this is a solid and secure grip. But, since you’re doing the lifting,” he walks back around and lays out on the bench. “Your feet should be firmly on the floor, like this,” Josh smacks his sneakers against the mat, watches as the man’s eyes tear away from his and glance down at his feet.

“Right, now, make sure your legs are at, mmm, seventy-five to an eighty degree angle. Also, make sure your shoulders are locked down—that’s just fancy trainer talk for make sure your shoulder blades are flat, and then you lift the bar like this…” Josh lifts the bare bar up and away from the stand and brings it down to his chest. He can _feel_ the man’s eyes on him. 

“You wanna lower the bar over your sternum, here, like this,” he demonstrates, keeping his movements fluid and slow. “And you want to breathe in and suck in your core as you’re doing so, gives you more control. You touch the bar slightly to your chest and press back up.” Josh does so once, and then again, before holding the bar directly above him. “So now, as my spotter, since I’m putting the bar back, you want your hands in between mine, like that. And just guide the bar,and boom, done!” 

Josh rocks up into a sitting position and claps. “I can spot you for a few reps, if you want. I usually press without a spotter and that’s totally okay to do, too, just never increase your resistance more than a little at a time if you don’t have a spotter. There are safety pins here so it’s fine, but yeah, keep that in mind.”

The man blinks at him, down at the bench and then back up at him again. He looks a little lost; it’s kind of…cute. “Oh, right, you said you would-”

“Yeah if you wanna give it a try,” Josh laughs and gestures to the bench.

He stands back as the man lies back, wriggling his body to get into position. “Like this?” he asks, placing his hands on the bar.

“Yeah, just like that. Definitely listen to what your body is telling you, though.” Josh puts two fingers of each hand beneath the bar. “Now lift, right, good, and down to your chest, and back. Try not to lock your elbows like that—it creates tension.” The man nods, his tongue peeking out the corner of his mouth.

Josh can’t help watching, and he can’t figure out why he can’t _stop_ watching. But his training kicks in, and he refocuses his attention on the way the man’s body moves beneath the bar. “Right, yeah, good, and then back, guide it back into the stand, and there you go!”

The man sits up, a cautious smile on his face. “Not so hard.”

“Nah, man, not at all. And I’d even say, just looking at your upper body strength, you can probably start out with half your body weight. What’s that, like…eighty-five?”

The man barks out a surprised laugh, and Josh finds that…oh, a little charming. “Uh, more like ninety,” the man says back, shrugging. They stare at one another for a moment. Josh can’t help but think…he wants to know more about this consistent gym-goer. He wants to know more for reasons he’s not entirely sure about.

These aren’t the things he should be thinking about at five-thirty in the morning, though. He hasn’t even had his wheatgrass and so he’s not properly prepared to tackle whatever _this_ is. 

Clearing his throat, he moves to the weights and puts two twenty-pound rounds on either end, followed by two, smaller, five-pound rounds. “Not bad at all, that’s a good place to start. And oh, uh, your legs, you can get a lot more power for your reps if you press your legs into the floor.”

“Oh, right, well, thanks man. Um, thanks, bro, you…thanks. For the lesson. You’re a trainer, aren’t you? Shouldn’t I pay you for this sort of thing?” The man begins patting at his gym shorts as though there’s a wallet there. The word “cute” comes to Josh’s mind again.

“No charge,” Josh says and winks and the man colors just slightly in his cheeks. _Cute, cute, cute!_

Josh leaves him but keeps watching the man closely but sneakily as he begins the new bench-press routine. Something warm tingles in Josh’s chest as he watches the man do rep after rep—his form actually pretty good—until he finishes up with that and moves across the room and out of Josh’s line of sight.

He feels…good. And strange. Mostly good. Could be the bee pollen but…he kind of wonders what the man is up to now, kind of wants to walk around the corner and see. But that would be…weird, wouldn’t it? Kind of stalkerish? Still, he knows that he’ll see the man again, maybe tomorrow, maybe in a few days.

Maybe Josh will ask his name.

Maybe Josh will tell him that he admires the man’s commitment to working on his body.

Maybe Josh will tell him his own name, too.

Maybe he’ll see where it goes…

...or something.


End file.
